Grudge Plays
I liked the gentleman sitting at my left at yesterday afternoon’s no-limit Texas Hold ‘Em game at the Wynn. He spoke in a soft voice, had a sense of humor and showed me he had a king high flush when I dropped out against him with two pairs.
“Good fold,” he said. “I guess I was too expensive.”
Whether he was or wasn't mattered little. I abandoned the hand on BodogPoker since previously I had noticed him toying with a large gold ring when he held the nuts. As soon as he started rubbing that ring again, I figured I’d better honor my observation. Is anything more fundamental to this game than picking up an opponent’s tells?
A few hands later I won a moderate-sized pot against a young lady who seemed particularly agitated. The look she gave me sent the temperature in the room down several degrees.
“That’s twice you’ve beaten that girl,” my neighbor said kindly. “Ease up, man. Can’t you see she’s a beginner?”
“How could you pay with a pair of sevens?” the girl asked bitterly.
“Intuition,” I replied. That was untrue. Her pattern of betting made it clear to me that she was bluffing. Holding good cards on previous hands her bets were noticeably more sizable.
Two seats to the left of my good-hearted neighbor, a gentleman long on chips but short on hair was arguing over a technicality.
“He said ten, not ten chips. That means ten dollars to me.”
“Not necessarily,” said the dealer.
“That bald headed bastard is at it again,” my neighbor whispered to me. “He loves to bully inexperienced players. Nothing would please me more than to wipe him out.”
Although I said nothing, I suspected my neighbor was heading the wrong way. In this game it’s a mistake to concentrate one’s efforts on a single opponent.
I won another hand from the young lady when she raised a hand in which I was dealt wired nines. A nine came up on the flop. After she checked, I went all-in. Perhaps my action seemed foolish, but it had a dual purpose. Might not she pay by thinking I was trying to psyche her, or might I not be demonstrating what a fine fellow I was by letting her off the hook?
“Good fold,” I said when she threw her cards away. “I was hoping you wouldn’t follow.”
“That’s a lot of bull,” said Baldy across the way. “You were trying to trick her.”
“Honi soit qui mal y pense,” I replied.
Not ten minutes later, Baldy raised the three-dollar big blind to twenty-one dollars. Mister nice-guy next to me was the lone caller. The flop came up queen-jack of clubs, ten of diamonds. Baldy bet twenty chips or sixty dollars.
“I’m all-in,” said my neighbor, pushing close to $250 into the pot.
Baldy hesitated before deciding to pay. My neighbor turned over the eight of diamonds and the nine of spades.
“Small straight,” he said with a smile.
The turn was the ace of clubs. ‘What lousy luck,’ I thought to myself. That was about the worst card possible for my new pal.
“Hell’s bells!” said my neighbor, thinking along the same line.
“Save your breath,” said his opponent. “I’m neither on a flush nor a straight.”
The river was another ace. There was no doubting Baldy’s victory this time. His trip queens had become a full house.
The fellow on my left let out a string of curse words sufficient to embarrass the U.S. Naval Academy after a West Point touchdown. Maybe he wasn’t so nice after all.
“And to that son of a bitch,” he concluded.
I held back from commenting about his coming in with an unsuited eight-nine after a raise by a tight player. Seek trouble, and you are likely to find it, n'est-ce pas?
Calm reigned at the table for about two and a half minutes. Dealt wired kings, I made a half-assed raise to nine dollars.
“I’m all-in,” said my distaff opponent when the bet came to her.
Poor girl. She must have had financial problems. Well, maybe not. After all, she had wagered more than a hundred bucks holding jack-ten of diamonds.
I caught a third king that I didn’t need. Nothing resembling a jack, ten, straight or flush appeared on the board. The only thing that came up was the young lady’s temper. While her vocabulary was not as colorful as the gentleman on my left, the inflection of her voice was pretty much the same.
“Good fold,” he said. “I guess I was too expensive.”
Whether he was or wasn't mattered little. I abandoned the hand on BodogPoker since previously I had noticed him toying with a large gold ring when he held the nuts. As soon as he started rubbing that ring again, I figured I’d better honor my observation. Is anything more fundamental to this game than picking up an opponent’s tells?
A few hands later I won a moderate-sized pot against a young lady who seemed particularly agitated. The look she gave me sent the temperature in the room down several degrees.
“That’s twice you’ve beaten that girl,” my neighbor said kindly. “Ease up, man. Can’t you see she’s a beginner?”
“How could you pay with a pair of sevens?” the girl asked bitterly.
“Intuition,” I replied. That was untrue. Her pattern of betting made it clear to me that she was bluffing. Holding good cards on previous hands her bets were noticeably more sizable.
Two seats to the left of my good-hearted neighbor, a gentleman long on chips but short on hair was arguing over a technicality.
“He said ten, not ten chips. That means ten dollars to me.”
“Not necessarily,” said the dealer.
“That bald headed bastard is at it again,” my neighbor whispered to me. “He loves to bully inexperienced players. Nothing would please me more than to wipe him out.”
Although I said nothing, I suspected my neighbor was heading the wrong way. In this game it’s a mistake to concentrate one’s efforts on a single opponent.
I won another hand from the young lady when she raised a hand in which I was dealt wired nines. A nine came up on the flop. After she checked, I went all-in. Perhaps my action seemed foolish, but it had a dual purpose. Might not she pay by thinking I was trying to psyche her, or might I not be demonstrating what a fine fellow I was by letting her off the hook?
“Good fold,” I said when she threw her cards away. “I was hoping you wouldn’t follow.”
“That’s a lot of bull,” said Baldy across the way. “You were trying to trick her.”
“Honi soit qui mal y pense,” I replied.
Not ten minutes later, Baldy raised the three-dollar big blind to twenty-one dollars. Mister nice-guy next to me was the lone caller. The flop came up queen-jack of clubs, ten of diamonds. Baldy bet twenty chips or sixty dollars.
“I’m all-in,” said my neighbor, pushing close to $250 into the pot.
Baldy hesitated before deciding to pay. My neighbor turned over the eight of diamonds and the nine of spades.
“Small straight,” he said with a smile.
The turn was the ace of clubs. ‘What lousy luck,’ I thought to myself. That was about the worst card possible for my new pal.
“Hell’s bells!” said my neighbor, thinking along the same line.
“Save your breath,” said his opponent. “I’m neither on a flush nor a straight.”
The river was another ace. There was no doubting Baldy’s victory this time. His trip queens had become a full house.
The fellow on my left let out a string of curse words sufficient to embarrass the U.S. Naval Academy after a West Point touchdown. Maybe he wasn’t so nice after all.
“And to that son of a bitch,” he concluded.
I held back from commenting about his coming in with an unsuited eight-nine after a raise by a tight player. Seek trouble, and you are likely to find it, n'est-ce pas?
Calm reigned at the table for about two and a half minutes. Dealt wired kings, I made a half-assed raise to nine dollars.
“I’m all-in,” said my distaff opponent when the bet came to her.
Poor girl. She must have had financial problems. Well, maybe not. After all, she had wagered more than a hundred bucks holding jack-ten of diamonds.
I caught a third king that I didn’t need. Nothing resembling a jack, ten, straight or flush appeared on the board. The only thing that came up was the young lady’s temper. While her vocabulary was not as colorful as the gentleman on my left, the inflection of her voice was pretty much the same.
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